The Strand Holding the Last Strand of Life

The wave-washed shell under the skin of my softened feet,

Each grain of sand once a shell, together, they make a shore

Thousands of them, broken together, they are whole.

Driftwood, it lays pale as the fractured sand in which I bury my toes,

Waiting for a purpose other than lying, smooth but unremembered

The art of each piece isn’t seen, carefully crafted into each wooden heart.

Blades of hope, that each olive-pine stalk could drive a foundation,

Letting future generations feel dew-splattered grass under smooth-satin skin

More than useless dry weeds, should they be seen once more.

Songs that cause my heart to flutter, and call out, emptiness around me,

The rhythm stills a heart time cannot recover, it beats no longer, wash it away

And as I take a final look at the condemned alluring, the swell takes its last heartbeat.

 goodbye,   goodbye     my      friend       I        never               had,                             goodbye